Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Rain drops hang off long slender needles, made brilliant green by droplets no longer clinging to cloud.
The earth beneath the living statues is soft and covered in a blanket of brown needles.
Thousands, millions, the blanket has no pattern to the eye, to the giver they tell of history, of storms and snow, of wind and sun, passing days and months, years and generations.
The scent that rises from the moist blanket mingles with living needles and bark. The fragrance is beyond description but not experience.
Breathe deeply and fill your soul with peace and tranquility as almost blinding rays of sunlight reach you through branch, limb and needle.
Warmth escapes from hidden rooms beneath the blanket as the sun heats the earth.
The blanket beckons your wearied body, go ahead, multitudes of creatures have already felt the comfort.
The blanket is thick and soft, your hand presses down and the blanket gives to your desire.
Lay back and sense the blanket give and move to your weariness.
The scent, the warmth, the moisture, they approach and beckon to lay with you.
Soon you are wrapped in comfort that fills your very soul, yea, every cell.
From your repose, looking up, the living statues reach into and then become part of the heavens.
Sleep overtakes and you dream of heaven, a land of pines, smells, and sweet comfort.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
The Seed Falls
A seed falls, earth embraces
Seed lives, breaks free.
Sun, rain, time, generations pass.
Branch, leaf, reach sunward,
Root goes deep, strength to keep.
The axe falls, death comes,
The knife shapes, post becomes.
Tide turns, world spurns.
Sinless Word suspended,
Heavens gaze is ended.
Great I AM is blind,
His Logos unable to find.
Purity runs down,
Puddles on the ground.
Scar of axe, knife,
Bring end of strife.
Post with open pore,
Absorbs sin so sore.
Post, thought dead, now lives,
Upward, Sonward, life to give.
Friday, April 3, 2020
Feet Near The Earth, Crowned Brow To The Skies,
God's Arms Outstretched Mankind's Savior Dies.
On The Death Post and Beam,
His Precious Life Blood Does Gleam.
Three Iron Spikes Hold In Place,
Spotless Lamb, Now Dirty Sacrificial Face.
Voice, Whispering, Cracking, Groaning,
Pouring Out Life, For Sinners Atoning.
Parched Throat, Dry Lips, Mercy Please,
Cheap Wine On Hyssop, Creator They Tease.
Deep Into The Heavens Does He Gaze,
Searching, Praying Father, Nothing But Haze.
Completion Of Redemption, He Cries,
Wounded, Bruised Head, He Bows, He Dies.
Cold, Granite-Like Men, Face Death,
Watch, Remark, Christ Of God Gasps, Last Breath.
Now, Their Hearts Hard As Stone,
Strangely Moved, Even Their Sin Atoned.
For They Have Watched Countless Die,
Limp, Lifeless Bodies, Suspended High.
Men, Now Close To Post And Beam,
Ugly Truth Transformed To Beauties Gleam.